Hold On (Please)
by VampChippzRisesAgain
Summary: Kunikida knew that he should've just stayed in bed with the way his body felt and that his past continued to pester him. Never, in a million years, did he think that he'd have to rely on his coworkers (family) to help. Throw in the Port Mafia, the Azure King, and the Rats of the House of the Dead, and all that comes out is a fucking mess. *Alternate summary inside*
1. Chapter 1

_Summary__: Day in and day out, Kunikida hurts. He's hurting so bad he decides to drown himself in his work in an attempt to get rid of the feeling. Because of this, he catches a cold and still shows up to the Agency. Can his coworkers (family) save him from himself? (Or, as an alternative, the one time Kunikida understands why suicide is so appealing to Dazai and can't seem to stop suffering.)_

_/So, yeah...this fic. Might be multi-chaptered, depending on how much I wanna put in here._

_I got the feels from a song (Hold On by Senses Fail) and got inspired. Kunikida gets overlooked in favor of Dazai, in my opinion, so what a better way to celebrate the bespectacled man than to give him a good ol' dose of angst?_

_I own nothing, and I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

"_**She's everything to everyone; wish I could've see it come**_

_**down but, I heard incorrectly.**_

_**It seems everything she knows is now**_

_**five minutes 'till closing; **_

_**that's not a lot of time when you're nervous."**_

_~Look Away by Thousand Foot Krutch_

* * *

_Thunder rumbled overhead as rain pelted the streets of Yokohama, forming decent-sized puddles on the pavement. One such puddle was disrupted by footsteps, which admittedly ran at a dangerous pace in this weather. The owner of the footsteps had a distraught expression on his face, ignoring the horrified looks people gave him for the blood that ran down his head and having one goal in mind: __**Get there before it's too late.**_

_Once he skidded around a corner, blonde hair swinging to the side with the motion, he broke out into a sprint as the sound of sirens reached his ears. His glasses were becoming blurry with the droplets that splashed against them, but he paid it no mind in favor of locking his eyes on a plume of smoke rising a block away. He willed his feet to go faster, to push himself to his limits before the sand in the hourglass ran out._

_He arrived on the scene as a single gunshot rang in the night. With trembling hands, he lifted the upper half of a woman's body to hear her chuckle. "You drove me to this, Kunikida." She coughed wetly, and went still. The man's eyes widened in disbelief as something foreign and definitely unwanted tore through his heart mercilessly. Tears slid down his face as he sobbed, unable to hold in his emotions any longer._

_The last grain of sand fell through the glass. He screamed._

_And screamed._

_And screamed._

_And - _

* * *

An alarm blared throughout an apartment, startling its one occupant awake. The man sighed, shifting under the blankets to glare at the dimly-lit room before him.

_It aches._

_It always aches._

Doppo Kunikida groaned as he rolled onto his side, hand pawing his nightstand in search of his glasses. Once he felt the smooth frame he plucked it from its original position, sitting up so he could put them on his face properly. He ran a hand down his face before looking at his clock. _4:30am. Right on schedule._ He slipped out of his covers just as a yawn escaped him, his feet taking him to the bathroom.

It was at the mirror that he paused, taking in his reflection.

He looked horrible. His blonde hair stuck up at odd angles, some strands drooping in front of his vision. His skin was almost a sickly pallor, as if he'd seen a ghost, and it only served to bring out the bags underneath his eyes, which seemed dull. If anything the sight of himself made him worry, and he hoped that it wouldn't interfere with his work.

"..._Tch._" He continued to go about doing his daily tasks around the house once he was done in the bathroom, but the memory of his appearance haunted him. He was getting worse and worse each day, which correlated with the ever-growing ache in his chest. He kept going, though, and would arrive on time to the Agency to keep Dazai in check until the clock struck 8:00pm. He would then head home, tie up any loose ends from the assignments he was given earlier, and spread out new cases the President gave him to look over on his bed until it was time for him to sleep.

This was the Ideal Life he led. So, why was he feeling this way?

(He knew exactly why.)

As he brushed out his hair, Kunikida swallowed past the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat. _Nononono, not now. You'll have time to ponder it later. There's work to be done today._ He wouldn't, though. He'd be so occupied with his job at the Agency that it'll demand all of his attention, right up until he went to cash in for the night.

He planned to keep it that way. With time, it'll surely go away...right? It _has_ to. Once he steeled his resolve, he grabbed his notebook and set out for the front door.

Yes, he'd just work until he forgot about it. As rain gently tapped against the windows, he closed the door behind him.

* * *

Kunikida couldn't forget about it.

As Tanizaki handed him the next stack of papers (courtesy of Dazai, who didn't want to do anything) the bespectacled man took it with a sigh of annoyance directed towards his partner, suppressing a wince as the ache in his chest throbbed. He thanked the teen for bringing him the stack and quickly set to work, pen gliding across the pages with ease. Everyone else in the Agency was either occupied with their own work or had set off to solve a case somewhere in the city, which meant that the usual chatter in the office was diminished. _They were working hard,_ he noted with some pride. It was his job to keep the Agency running and on-time with their appointments; due to their unexpected increase in work ethic, he couldn't let them down just because of some silly pain.

"Kunikida-_kuuun_." Well, _almost_ everyone was working hard. The blonde's eye twitched in annoyance, but nonetheless kept working.

Dazai poked his shoulder with each syllable of his name. "Ku-ni-ki-da-kuuun."

"What, Dazai?" Kunikida finally answered, not once looking up from his assignment. The brown-haired man raised an eyebrow, humming at his response in what the bespectacled man thought was curiosity.

"Do you know any other way to commit suicide?"

The question actually made Kunikida pause, but it wasn't in thoughtfulness. It took a majority of his willpower to keep himself from showing a shift in body language, and almost succeeded. His left hand, which Dazai couldn't see due to being situated on Kunikida's right side, quivered as he was thrown into the past.

_A white sunhat. Blue sky. Laughing children. A smile that could light up even the darkest of nights. "Kunikida-kun." Gray clouds. The sound of a gun being cocked._

"_Kunikida." Children screaming. Storm clouds. The color red. Tainted laughter._

"_Kunikida…" Running feet. Cries of the innocent. Multiple gunshots. Thunder echoing in the distance._

"_You drove me to this, Kunikida."_

_One last gunshot._

_Rain. A tombstone. Confusion. Crippling sadness._

"_Why did you do it?"_

_He knew exactly why._

"..-aaaa...Kunikida?" Dazai's questioning brought him to the present, and Kunikida blinked to rid himself of the memories. The bandage-wasting man beside him tilted his head at his partner's reaction. Kunikida just scoffed, sending a sideways glare to the other.

"Go jump off a bridge."

"I already tried that, Baka-kida!" _Baka-kida?_ Kunikida felt his usual irritation rise up at his partner's antics, but it was quickly swallowed up by that damnable ache. Feeling numb, he tried to let out his usual annoyed sigh once more. It came out half-hearted at best.

"Then do it again, idiot."

"I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because Kunikida-kun would just fish me out of the river, like always!" That response was...unexpected. Kunikida let out a huff, not saying anymore on the matter. To be honest, knowing that Dazai wouldn't try to kill himself at the moment because of him was touching, but that feeling was fighting a losing battle with the hole inside of him.

"And, also...because something seems off with Kunikida-kun today."

_That_ got his attention. Slowly, the blonde turned his head to stare at the chocolate pools that were his partner's eyes, pen lifting off of the page once more. "And what makes you say that, huh?"

"...Just a feeling." Was all Dazai said, but Kunikida knew better. The ex-Mafia member was scanning each minute change in his facial expression, the inflections in his voice as he talked, and analyzing their conversation up until now.

Kunikida didn't want anyone, least of all _Dazai_ to find out about this. The Agency needed him to be at his best, so damn him if he doesn't at least do that for them. Calming his nerves, he stared straight into Dazai's eyes and spoke with what he hoped was annoyance. "Well, take that feeling and use it to _do_ _your damn paperwork._"

"Ah, Kunikida!" It seemed to work - at least, for a time. Dazai raised the back of his hand to his forehead and stumbled back, as if some force was pushing him. "How could you even _suggest_ such a thing? I thought we had an agreement!"

"I don't remember making _any_ agreements with you!" There, that sounded more like something he would say. As Dazai slunk back over to his desk with the other remaining members laughing at him, Kunikida gave a slight frown to his paperwork before it disappeared entirely.

He should feel good about getting the other off of his case.

Why did he feel worse?

* * *

9:30pm.

Kunikida took off his clothes in favor of pulling on some pajamas with a few curses leaving his lips, the _Ideal_ on his bed along with one unfinished report the President assigned him. Some asshole in their car saw it fit to splash water on him, and he was soaking wet; at least, though, the file was protected from the onslaught. Once he was done changing, he whipped out a pen and set to work.

Work. Something he did nonstop. Kunikida should feel the usual content that came along with the thought, but all he felt was pain. Really, he knew what was causing it, but _it_ happened four years ago for crying out loud! He shouldn't be stuck on the past.

And yet, he was. Kunikida scowled, but it seemed fake in comparison to the overwhelming sadness he felt. No, sadness wasn't right; it ran deeper than that, weighing on his very soul, but he didn't know what the hell it was called. Maybe that "sadness" had just built up overtime, and he was near his breaking point. It wasn't like he'd confided in anyone about it; that day was the same day he had joined the Agency, so he hadn't known anyone well enough to vent. Speaking of, tomorrow would officially mark the four-year anniversary of _it_, but he planned to occupy himself with work even if it killed him.

_Yes,_ Kunikida stopped working for a split second before getting back to it with vigor.

_Even if it kills me._

* * *

The next morning Kunikida woke up simultaneously with the alarm going off, a series of coughs clawing their way out of his body until his whole being shook with the force behind each one.

"What the hell…" He grumbled, sitting up groggily. His head pounded in protest at the action but he ignored it in favor of looking at the calendar.

_April 30th._ Today was the day when -

Kunikida coughed once more, left nostril beginning to clog up. He quickly went to grab a couple of tissues and blew his nose, setting up the coffee maker and throwing the used rags into the trash.

He honestly felt like shit. _Of all the days to get a little cold, it had to be today. I'm usually careful to not let myself get sick._ He put on his glasses, running a hand through his hair with a sigh. He at least managed to get the report done yesterday, so if he had to do anything at the minimum it should be handing it in to the President. With that in mind, he made himself a cup of coffee and drank it before preparing to head out. Numerous times he sneezed, and he popped a cough drop into his mouth before leaving his apartment. There was no way in hell he was letting this get the better of him. What if people were in danger and they needed his help, only for him to be _resting_ in bed at home?

So yes, work took precedence over his well being. No rest for the wicked, right?

If only he'd listened to his body.

* * *

_/Yep, I've decided._

_This is gonna be a multi-chaptered fic._

_If Kunikida seems OOC here, I apologize; it's my first time writing him. EVER. I'll mention his Ideals more in the other chapters, and honestly...the poor dude needs to learn to take a break every now and then. (He also needs to learn to let go and move on, but his Ideals keep on holding him back...Kunikida, you are a mess. We still love you though.)_

_Thank you all for checking this story out (I should update my other ones, but I have so much planned for this one as well as another BSD fanfic that's in progress - ) and I hope you all stick around for future chapters!_

_~VampChippzRisesAgain_


	2. Chapter 2

_/AH-HAA!_

_Chapter 2!_

_Didn't think there was gonna be two chapters in the span of two days, huh? THINK AGAIN!_

_Okay, okay, I'll stop being obnoxious. I present to you the second chapter of Hold On (Please), and I hope you enjoy!_

* * *

"_**And they say: 'Don't hurt, **_

_**look away.**_

_**Don't be afraid when you wanna turn back a million times.**_

_**And it might get colder; wait 'till it's over.**_

_**Darling you'll find your way tonight.'"**_

_~Look Away by Thousand Foot Krutch_

* * *

Edgar Allan Poe could honestly say, for the first time since he'd visited the Agency, that something was off with Kunikida.

Now, he could be wrong; he didn't really know the man, and had never spoken to him even with the whole Guild ordeal. Plus, the poet wasn't all that talkative, but there was one thing he was good at.

And that was being observant.

Even though Ranpo beat him on any and all occasions, Poe still prided himself in being able to tell when someone wasn't at their best. Kunikida hid it well, he'd admit, but no one can really cover up the slight paleness to their skin nor the unusual flush to their cheeks. Karl seemed to notice too, as he gently pawed the ex-Guild member's head with concern.

"I know, Karl. I-I'll go ask Kunikida-san if something's wrong…" Poe wasn't the most assertive, nor did he view himself as the most likeable guy; still, he would try to help out in some way. _I owe it to Ranpo-kun and, by extension, the Agency for letting me stay here...I need to pay them back somehow!_

"You'll go ask Kunikida-kun what?"

Ranpo's voice interrupted Poe's thoughts, making him jump and almost fall out of his chair. He honestly thought the detective was asleep, so hearing him speak so close to his ear made him react violently. "R-Ranpo-kun! You can't scare me like that...I-It'll kill me one day!"

"Nevermind that. What's this about Kunikida-kun?" Ranpo ignored his rival's near heart attack, sticking a lollipop in his own mouth before continuing. "It's unnatural to see you go out of your way to talk to someone you haven't before."

"O-Oh, um…" What should he say? Was Kunikida the type of man to not care if people were talking about him, or would he throw somebody (he's seen him do it to Dazai, he _knows_ Kunikida can be scary) at the nearest wall if even his _name_ was mentioned without consent? Poe struggled with indecision, having an internal conflict with himself, as Ranpo stared at his companion with expectancy.

"Well?" Ranpo's flippant, albeit impatient tone made him flinch. With a sigh and a silent apology to Kunikida, Poe made his decision.

"It's just that...Kunikida-san seems a little stressed today - w-well, more than usual! He also doesn't look too good…" Poe trailed off as the best detective he had ever seen leaned back, staring straight at Kunikida's diligently working form. After a couple of seconds of silence, Ranpo gave what seemed like an affirmative hum before turning back to Poe.

"I'm surprised you pay attention to that, Poe-kun." That response made the poet fidget in his seat. How was he supposed to take that? As a compliment, or as an insult? It's hard to tell what Ranpo was thinking sometimes. Karl lightly tapped his forehead in an attempt to calm his nerves, and Poe scratched the back of the raccoon's ear gratefully.

"W-Well, I've always been like that...I-I think!" Goodness, he was as bad as Alcott when it came to his nerves. Ranpo hummed again, spinning lazily around in his chair.

"Did you get all that...Dazai?"

Poe would never admit that he squeaked (he did) when the bandaged man stepped out into their line of sight. The poet didn't even hear him approach, much less feel his presence when he and Ranpo conversed. It made him think briefly back to the time Ranpo told him that Dazai was ex-Mafia; if he didn't believe it before, he certainly believed it now.

"Yes, I did. Thank you, Poe-kun." Dazai gave the ex-Guild member a smile, but it seemed devoid of humor. It might have been a trick of the light, but Poe could've sworn that concern shone in Dazai's eyes. The man himself sighed, shaking his head in exasperation. "Kunikida always pushes himself, never thinking of a break. It was only a matter of time, I suppose."

It was at that moment Poe realized that Dazai blamed himself for not noticing his partner's condition sooner. It wasn't easy to spot it; Dazai's brows furrowed ever so slightly, the shade of his eyes gradually darkened, and his lips briefly twitched downwards. With what confidence he could muster, the poet leaned forward with his arms on Ranpo's desk. "U-Um! It's not your fault that you didn't see it before it got this bad! Kunikida-san seems like the type of person to keep it to himself…"

Poe trailed off as Dazai and Ranpo gave him incredulous stares. A solid minute of just staring with no response from either of them had the poet start to fidget again, Karl crawling off of his head to rest in his lap. Whatever assessment they were making of him concluded with a small smile from Dazai and a huff from Ranpo, the former opening his mouth to speak.

Oh, god; Poe could only imagine all of the negative words that were going to come from the bandaged man (such as _What do _you _know about the Agency_ or even _Why are you even here, again?_ or maybe, the worst phrase of all: _No one needs you here, you know. Ranpo does a much better job than...whatever it is you can do._ That last one stung the most, and Poe can't tell if it's because of it concerning his rival or some deeper emotion that's on the fringe of consciousness) and flinched (rather violently, he might add with a touch of shame later on).

"Thank you, Poe-kun, but Kunikida-kun is my partner. It's my job to get him to loosen up once in a while."

That response was...different. Certainly not what he thought the other was going to say. Poe forced his tense frame to relax, sending a hesitant and shaky smile. "Still...y-you could have someone else help you. M-Maybe…" What was he even trying to suggest? That he could _help?_ He couldn't even help himself, his quest for revenge being all for naught. He was a nobody; a former enemy, a ghost, _insignificant_.

Yes, that has to be why they gave him those stares earlier; they thought he couldn't do much of anything, and they were right. _He_ wasn't much of anything. With those thoughts the rest of his sentence died on his lips, preferring to look at the floor with his bangs covering his eyes. A tiny but rueful smile appeared on his face, waiting for the words they were surely saving for later so that it would hurt even more after building him up with acknowledgement and compliments -

"I would appreciate it if you could help me, Poe-kun." - but Dazai just kept the smile on his face, not seeming to regret asking for the poet's assistance. Poe's eyes widened as he sharply looked up, Ranpo also turning to stare at Dazai with raised eyebrows.

"I knew you were going to involve Poe-kun somehow, but I never imagined you directly asking for his assistance." _That makes two of us, Ranpo-kun,_ Poe thought as he kept on staring at Dazai, mouth open unbeknownst to him.

"H-How could I even…?"

"You can. I _know_ you can." Was all the ex-Mafia member said, stating it with such confidence that Poe had no choice but to bend to his wishes. Karl tapped on his chin to get him to close his mouth, and Poe blinked at the action before doing so.

"...Okay. I'll help." Poe's bangs no longer covered both of his eyes, as only his left was visible. His lips were set in a straight line, and his stormy amethyst orb shone in determination. "What do we do first?"

Dazai leaned in, voice but a whisper. "Here's how this'll work…"

* * *

Kunikida seriously contemplated face-planting into the stack of papers before him.

He was sorely disappointed, as even looking down caused his eyes to water and his nose to run. With a sigh he reached for the tissue box on his desk, wiping his nose as he worked. His pen never once stopped writing, his left hand typing a digital copy of the report he was currently on at the same time. His brain may as well be cotton, and it was taking all of his willpower to not get distracted from work.

That should be the only thing on his mind right now. No outside distractions, no sun hats, no laughter, no sirens, no smoke, no _gunshots_ -

_Clack._

Kunikida blinked twice, the second time slowly as he stared at the utensil on the ground. His right hand formed a fist, which earned a worry glance from both Tanizaki and Atsushi, but he ignored them in favor of reaching down to pick up the pen with a few curses muttered under his breath. Today _really_ wasn't shaping up to be his Ideal day; first he gets sick, then it turns out that it's the anniversary of _it_, and -

"My, my, Kunikida-kun; dropping your pen like that is quite unlike you."

Dazai's amused voice grated on the blonde's already-thin nerves, a scowl forming on his face even though his head started to pound in protest. "Give it here, Dazai."

Dazai finally came into view, his left hand twirling the pen with a laziness Kunikida sort of envied right now. Wait, no, he shouldn't be thinking like that; he can't afford to slack off right now!

Slacking meant time to think. Time to think meant reminiscing. Reminiscing meant remembering.

And he didn't want to remember.

"Hmm…" The suicidal man seemed to ponder for a second. His eyes then lit up, as if he reached a conclusion. "I know! Let's propose a trade of sorts."

"A trade." Kunikida repeated, dumbfounded. "For a pen." Why, _why_ was he stuck with this idiot for a partner? Any other day, Kunikida would gladly chuck him out the window, but he wasn't even sure if he could stand up without feeling as if someone whacked him with a slab of concrete.

"Exactly!" Dazai didn't look surprised by his own offer, even as Atsushi was sending him an exasperated look across the office. Kunikida kept typing away at his keyboard - this time using both hands - with a displeased frown on his face. If he were to follow his Ideals, it would mean finishing his work by the end of the day. He always made a point to make a paper copy of a report as well as a digital copy, and he couldn't create the former without his pen. Upon reaching this conclusion, he stopped to look at the brown-haired man.

"...What's this "trade" you're proposing?"

Dazai beamed as if he was a little kid receiving a birthday present, the damn pen still twirling in his grasp in a teasing manner. Kunikida had half a mind to just tackle the other to the ground for it, but he felt too hot and too cold at the same time and his eyes were starting to strain for some reason so he dubbed it as a bad idea. "I will only give you the pen...if you tell me what's wrong."

What.

_What._

"...Eh?" Kunikida tried to play it off, he really did. "What the hell do you mean, "_tell me what's wrong_"?"

"You know exactly what I mean." Now Dazai wasn't smiling, he wasn't putting up his happy-go-lucky mask. The pen _kept on fucking twirling_ as Dazai's mouth was set in a straight line, eyes boring into his very soul. "Anyone can see that you're not at your best, Kunikida-kun."

Not good. If he told Dazai that he wasn't feeling good, the waste of bandages would just keep on prying until he discovered the root of the problem, and there was no way in hell that he was going to share one of his darkest secrets to a man who couldn't even finish his own work on time. On the other hand, if he didn't tell him anything, he would just keep pestering him until he confessed (accidental or otherwise). The blonde pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh, resisting the urge to cough. At the very least, he should come up with a lie of some sort…

_But that goes against my Ideals._ Great, he was having an existential crisis now. He did _not_ need the added stress, and he swore one more thing would just send him over the edge. A glance to his partner showed that the other was waiting for an answer, and Kunikida realized that the more time he spent silent before responding meant the higher the chance of Dazai thinking that whatever he's going to say is a lie. Wanting to waste no more time on the matter, he opened his mouth to respond.

"I've been - and felt - better without having to deal with my own surge in paperwork _and_ yours on top of that." Something flashed across Dazai's face, and Kunikida registered it as guilt.

Oh, no. _No no no no no._

Dazai was seriously blaming himself now.

"...Listen, Dazai - "

"You just seemed...under the weather, is all." Dazai cut him off with a wave of his free hand, the guilt erased from his face in favor of that cheerful disposition. Out of the corner of his eye, the blonde saw ex-Guild member Edgar Allan Poe wince at the tone of Dazai's voice, and he wondered for a second why the other was there before focusing his attention back on the matter at hand. "Guess I was mistaken, wasn't I?" The weak attempt at humor made Kunikida want to cringe from his own harsh response. Even though he wasn't at his best at the moment, that didn't make it right to take it out on his coworkers. His _Ideals_ wouldn't stand for it, either, and he briefly thought that the existential crisis came back to bite him in the ass _pretty quickly_, for a change.

"_No_ \- " God, was he seriously going to admit to being sick _just to make Dazai feel better?_ If Kunikida thought he lost his mind beforehand, he'd surely lost it now. "No, you aren't. I'll...admit...that I don't feel so great."

Dazai seemed to light up, a shit-eating grin on his face, and Kunikida realized that he had been played. While his glasses didn't break (this time), a vein may have popped in his head as he abruptly stood up. His body flushed in protest, the energy quickly leaving his body, but he still had enough to kick this guy's ass.

"You bastard," the blonde seethed, Dazai strangely going out of focus for a split second, "You manipulated me."

"There was no other way to get it out of you, Kunikida-kun!" Dazai kept the grin on his face, and Kunikida was five seconds away from launching him through a brick wall. The suicidal man stopped twirling the pen, humming in thought. "Also, I think I'll keep this pen."

"You - !" Kunikida only took a step forward. Really, it wasn't that hard. He faintly registered a flash of red before his world tilted sideways, gravity pulling him to the ground as various shouts resounded from the office. They were quickly muted in favor of him losing consciousness, his body demanding rest to fight off the sickness inside of him.

All he knew for certain was that there was going to be hell when he woke up. Whether it was for him, for his coworkers, or for both, he wouldn't know until the time came.

* * *

***Five minutes before Dazai's confrontation with Kunikida, Port of Yokohama***

A woman in her late thirties was seen sprinting down the Port of Yokohama, checking every so often over her shoulder to deem that she was in the clear. With a smirk, she headed towards her goal: the docks. Her speedboat was waiting for her there, which would take her to safety. She only had five more steps to go -

"Oi."

Something punched her abdomen, making her lose her breath and to go flying into the ocean. Before she could choke on the salty liquid, a crimson aura surrounded her and lifted her body out of the water towards her assailant.

Her assailant wasn't grinning, unlike the last time she saw him. His cerulean orbs smoldered in fury, hat slightly crumpled as it sat on top of auburn curls. He, too, was alight with the same aura that surrounded her, some blood trickling down his chin before he wiped it with the back of his gloved hand.

"Going somewhere?" He taunted, even though he looked ready to rip her apart at the seams. The woman felt a slight satisfaction from being the one to anger him so, a smug grin forming on her face at the thought.

"No, not at all," She replied smoothly despite knowing that he could very well crush her. "And you?"

"Living with the fact that three of my men are dead because of you," He glowered, and to be honest she was impressed that he managed to intimidate her. "And that my own lift is currently up in flames."

"Did you not like the present I left for you?" She mocked, which was admittedly a bad choice as she started to choke on air once the man's hand formed a fist.

"No...No, I didn't." He responded, his jaw tensing. He opened up his hand, and the woman took in gasps of oxygen. The Ability User looked apprehensive, unforgiving, and honestly she couldn't give a damn. "Tell me something before you die. Why did you try to assassinate my Boss?"

"So I...could...deliver a message. You're still in an alliance with the Armed Detective Agency, yes?" A demented grin formed on her face. "Tell him...that the Azure King shall rise once again, and that Fyodor sends his regards." Her grin widened. "My last message goes to you, Nakahara Chuuya. Know that you are not safe from the Rats in this city."

His reaction was instantaneous. He forcefully closed his fist once more, and bits and pieces of the woman splattered everywhere into the water mere feet away from him. He flicked his wrist as if to shake off some imaginary blood, a contemplative frown on his face. The woman's message was downright disturbing, and he knew that he should make it back to Mori as soon as possible; he'd most definitely want to hear what the woman said.

With the feeling of being watched weighing down on his back, sending an involuntary shiver down his spine, Nakahara Chuuya of the Port Mafia set out back to base.

* * *

_/This...just got interesting._

_Poor Kunikida fainted (he'll argue "passed out", but same difference or whatever) and is pretty sick. Poe made his debut, though, and look at him trying to help out! He's a cinnamon roll._

_Speaking of debut, Chuuya makes an appearance here! This story just got a whole lot bigger perspective-wise, and it's only the second chapter. Hoo boy. (I originally planned for this to focus on the ADA, but with this new introduction to the Port Mafia, Poe, and Fyodor, this fic went from "small but multi-chaptered" to "big AND multi-chaptered". I'm quite proud of how this chapter turned out, though, and I hope you all stick around for future chapters!_

_~VampChippzRisesAgain_


End file.
